


Parasomnia

by beecakes



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: After Game End, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Guilt, M/M, Michael De Santa/Amanda De Santa - Freeform, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips - Freeform, Mikey Has A Nightmare, Post Ending A, warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beecakes/pseuds/beecakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael has a night terror after Ending A.</p><p>The guilt of his treacherous personality is strong with this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parasomnia

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after one of the many switching to Michael cut-scenes where he wakes up screaming, swinging his gun around. I wondered what he could have been dreaming about, and then I thought of the dreaded... *whispers* Ending A. 
> 
> Sorry about this. I had to do it.

 

  
  
  
And I saw her approaching me; all sultry eyes and swaying hips.

“Manda…” I whispered. She did not respond, but she continued to walk forward, her eyes transfixed on my lips. She reached me and I tried to touch her but she placed her hands on my face first, pulling me in and kissing me. I kissed her back and wrapped my arms around her waist, taking her in. I pulled back and looked in her eyes, mumbling “It’s been so long.” She was still touching my face but she didn’t react to what I’d said.

“Mand, I’m so glad that we-” I started, but I was halted by her index finger brushing against my lips. I slowly removed it and I rested my head at her neck, breathing her in.

“Psychopath.” She smiled.

“What?” I frowned, pulling back from her to meet her eyes. She was smiling and looked innocent, as usual.

“You lying, cheating, asshole.” She smirked, leaning in and kissing me again. The kiss hit me hard; like a slap to the face, and her tongue slithered into my mouth, poisoning me with liqour-like venom.

 

 

I was suddenly back on the runway, leaping out the car, for my life – for my future. I glanced back and saw a man – _the_ man chasing me again – shouting after me. I looked ahead and another deep hit of nostalgia hit me. He was standing there, Trevor.

His lanky figure - lean, angular and familiar – was leaning against the airplane. He was looking down at his feet, kicking the snow. Then he heard the commotion and looked up, frowning straight at me. Then at the man behind me, then me again. He stepped aside from the airplane.

He looked so young. This used to be Trevor. But this was Trevor, right now. His longish hair was brown – a dark brown - and messy, being tamed by an aviator hat, slightly askew. His eyes were wide with confusion, his image similar to a deer in the headlights. He pulled the hat off, it fell onto the snow. I was still running towards him, the man was still shouting at me. Trevor didn’t move; he was frozen until he finally reached into his pocket and started to pull out something. The flare gun.

 

“Shit man, shit!” I panted, getting closer to him. He eyed the man behind me and held the gun up to his face. The man stopped dead in his tracks.

“Th-this is my… the cargo… it needs to be- it’s…” He stuttered. Trevor glanced at me from the corner of his eye. I looked back at him. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, his face was chalk white and his eye sockets were purple. This was the first time I’d met him.

“He fucking took the fuckin’ car-” The man started.

“Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!” Trevor shouted. His voice had a certain youthfulness to its gravelly tone.  

“But it was h-” He started. I remembered what happened next, but reliving it was just as shocking. The flare was ejected, screaming through the air into the man’s eye socket. I gasped and covered my mouth as I watched him fall to the ground, onto the snow.

“I was fucking told one guy! One guy!” Trevor shouted at his corpse. I caught his glance and he noticed my horror.

“He was uncertain.” He reasoned, with an ironically uncertain tone.

“We need to get out of here.” I said, after a few moments. I was going to fly back over the border with him and dump the body in a lake. We would throw up because of the pungent smell of burning flesh. Then we’d go for a drink. We’d become friends. We’d become business partners.

But instead he remained still. He looked back up at me. He slowly frowned. His face conveyed a seething fury, as he breathed in and out hard. He then quickly pulled the flare gun on me, raising it up to eye-level. This wasn’t what happened. This wasn’t meant to happen.

“Woah there.” I shouted, my voice shaking.

“You treacherous piece of shit!” He shouted. His voice was thick with anger, and he looked older now. The flare gun exploded and I jumped back, landing in the wet snow.

 

 

I opened my eyes again and everything was white. Snow was collapsing from the sky all around me. I couldn’t see anything for the blizzard. I was lying on my back. I rose up slightly, trying to see where I was. A dark figure emerged from over the horizon, slowly trudging towards me.

I saw the black hooded cloak, flapping around in the white-out. Snow was swirling around it, as it approached me. I saw the scythe behind its back, being dragged in the snow. I could almost imagine the snow being spattered red.

“No, no!” I cried, edging backwards using my elbows. I looked up as it came closer to me.

“I don’t wanna die!” I shouted. The figure paused and remained still. I was still edging backwards, face contorted in fear and confusion.  
  
The black coat started disintegrating; black specks were joining the white flecks, in the snowstorm that surrounded us. The edges of the clock burned red, as the ash came away.

“Neither did I.” Trevor murmured. His face was revealed as the cloak scorched away. His eyes were clouded with red. I was now crawling backwards as fast as I could, trying to get away from him, trying to save myself from his wrath. He was still walking towards me, tossing the scythe between his hands with consideration.

 

While reversing, I bumped into a hard object. I looked up to see Franklin standing beside me.

“Franklin, son- you gotta…you gotta help me- he’s gonna…” I sputtered, looking up at him. He frowned at me, crossing his arms and looking down. Trevor was approaching me. I raised my hand up to Franklin. He just wrinkled his nose at it.

“You burned every motherfucker you’ve ever known.” He said, shaking his head and turning away. Betrayal. I watched back in awe, as he walked away from us. I turned back and saw Trevor, his cloak burning red, black smoke billowing from it. His cheeks were wet with tears, his face was the expression of emotional turmoil. He gritted his teeth and roared, swinging the scythe down on me. I started to scream.

 

 

 

I woke up screaming, with my gun swinging around in hand, before my eyes focused on the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. I sighed, rubbing my forehead and placing the gun back in the bedside drawer. I rubbed my eyes then sat on the edge of the bed, head in my hands.

 “Trevor… how did I…” I moaned, sure that the smell of gasoline was surrounding me.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
